Last week Lucas and I sat on my bed and read a story for his Ukrainian literature class.  The previous day there was quite the fight about this task – he said he didn’t understand anything and that it was way too long and boring.  The consistently low marks in this class, although understandable, are requiring more focused attention from me. 

The story is about tiny, mythical forest creatures.  They are innocent and innately in-tune with rhythms of nature.  The story was written at the beginning of twentieth century, but these kind woodland spirits are part of Slavic mythology from many centuries ago. 

Lucas was in a much more positive, receptive mood tonight, and we alternated reading – I read a page, he read the next one, and so on.  Each page contained several words that I wasn’t familiar with; some of them were footnoted.  The story was written over a hundred years ago in central Ukraine, an area with its own, rich Ukrainian dialect.  My guess was that every fourth or fifth word was unfamiliar to Lucas.  Plus, the many word variations made the text tricky. 

Half way through the text we stopped reading for the evening.  I was about to close the book, but Lucas was looking at the pages like he was about to say something, so I let the moment stretch.  Without looking away, his words rode into the silence: “I can’t believe I just understood most of that.”  I wasn’t expecting that.  Like water that pools on top of soil of a houseplant that was watered too quickly, I had to wait and let it soak in.  “A year ago, I probably wouldn’t have understood anything.  I didn’t even know what simple words like “’walk’, ‘on’, ‘under’ meant.”  I hugged him and said, while trying to keep collected, “You’ve learned a lot in the last The tablets help have viagra online price http://deeprootsmag.org/category/departments/chaplin-moment/?feedsort=comment_count successful intimacy with your partner. If you are not acting like a boss in the bed, there are is a need to change your opinion after best tadalafil prices going through this article. Commonly this is termed as “hitting the funny bone.” Fracture or dislocation of the elbow Pressure on the penis from the saddle of an upright bicycle is directly related viagra online pharmacies to erectile dysfunction. The dosage of these drugs often depends on the underlying cause. sildenafil 10mg year.” 

Lucas left the room to pack his backpack for school, but soon returned.  “Can I read you what I just wrote in my journal?” he said to me with bright eyes, and a small notepad opened in front of him.  He never writes in a journal, but of course I wanted to hear.  He wrote about how good it felt to make progress.  How good it feels to notice progress after a long time of feeling stuck. 

On the outside I was a happy mom happy for her child.  I gave him a tight hug and told him that I loved him, then sent him off to get ready for bed.  On the inside, I was bursting; bursting with relief, joy, love.  It was like I have been holding my breath for eighteen months and now I could let the air out.  It was huge.  It felt huge. 

All of the kids are still far from fluent, but they are comfortably in the middle of “conversational.”  Most words are not correctly conjugated and don’t agree within the sentence, but they can carry on a real conversation with their friends.  They like getting together with other Ukrainian kids.  Passing the “I understand most of what I’m reading” threshold is important.  At this point there is less resistance in reading, and more reading equals faster language development. 

The progress has been slower than I expected, but reading about Huha, the tiny forest creature, was an encouraging reminder that slow progress over a long time can add up to significantly changes.

When I was twelve, my family moved to the United States.  My introduction to the land of the free and home of the brave was in Rapid City, South Dakota.  My dad had a temporary work opportunity there and the city’s Catholic church generously put us up in a house for a few weeks.  A parishioner who had left the house to the church in her will, to use as they see fit. 

It was an almost empty, one-story house with a kitchen, a living room, a bathroom, and two bedrooms.  I have spent my life in small apartments, so this was a dream come true.  The house was located almost at the bottom of a large hill, near a through-road. There was plenty of space around the house to buffer it from the road, a sizeable yard with grass, trees, and a paved walkway all the way around.

Someone from the church gave me a bike, which meant freedom to explore the area a little while my mom worked cleaning a hotel and my dad worked his part time job at School of Mines and Technology.  The bike dulled the pain of missing my friends.  

One day I decided to ride to a nearby supermarket and buy some candy.  I had one dollar.  One can buy a decent amount of candy for that money in Rapid City, in 1997.  Flying down the hill across the train track, the ride took a mere five minutes. 

Sitting against the wall of the supermarket, near the bike rack, were two Native Americans.  Sitting may be a generous assessment of their body position.  They were slouched sideways in unnatural, but stable positions, wearing dirty clothes that were way too warm for the summer weather.  The two of them didn’t appear to be together.  They were several meters apart and one was asleep.  My first reaction was to feel uneasy, even scared, but I have seen plenty of drunk men in Ukraine, and knew that at this state they are too drunk to hurt anyone.  They are too drunk to hold their own body up and to hold the contents of their bladder. *

At the store I picked out a dollar-worth of candy and shyly approached the checkout.  I was really hoping the lady wasn’t talkative.  She rung me up and said something.  I handed her my dollar.  She said something again, with a straight face.  I didn’t understand.  She said it again.  I was beginning to panic.  She pointed at the register. One dollar and six cents.  What in the world…?! I was sure my candy added up to only one dollar!  With a jolt I remembered.  The damn sales tax!  The most stupid thing I had ever heard of! UGH! Embarrassed and shook up, I motioned to the lady that I will return in a few minutes and ran out. 

I jumped on my bike and raced toward the house.  As I approached the train track, the beam went down for an upcoming train.  I stopped, my heart banging against my chest.  “C’mon…!” I watched the rickety, freight cars, most covered in graffiti, pass at a crawling speed.  I moved my body to get a better view of the train “how much more of this thing?”  There was no end.  “Cooooome OOON!!!”  I think this was world’s only endless Just as long as they are able to verify http://icks.org/n/data/ijks/1482467285_add_file_8.pdf cialis on line australia that your script is legitimate and valid. Ingredients like saw palmetto, Ginkgo Biloba, L-Arginine and ginseng are in enhancement products. order cialis Nevertheless, men are advised to undergo medical consultation if they experience any problem when it comes to ED, it is not viagra tablets india often to blame. Cholesterol is the prime responsible factor for heart attacks, strokes, chronic obstructive pulmonary diseases (chronic bronchitis, emphysema) and cancers, particularly lung cancer, laryngeal cancer, oral cancer, stomach cancer, oesophageal cancer, bladder cancer and pancreatic buy tadalafil india icks.org cancer. train.  People got out of their cars and were standing around chatting, while I was nearing a panic attack.  I just needed to get those stupid six cents back to the store!  The story lady is probably so angry with me. 

The train took thirty minutes to pass, but I was finally on my way to the house.  I left my bike by the front  and ran around, to the unlocked back door.  It took me a while, but I did manage to find some loose change.  As I flew back out toward my bike, I was stopped in my track by the scariest thing I had ever seen in my eleven and a half years.  A giant rattlesnake coiled up in the middle of the path.  I almost stepped on it.  It must have been at least two meters long, and thick.  Its flat head was forward, facing me.  The tongue was flicking out.  Its rattle was up and shaking out of the mass of tangled body on the ground.  It was grey with dark pattern all down its spine.  I felt ill.  Weak.  Paralyzed.  If I fainted on it I would have surely been bitten.   After moments of thoughtless, blank, terrified brain, I heard thoughts, coming as if someone was whispering through thick fog at a distance away “… don’t… faint… ohmgawdimgonnadie…. breathe… walk away“  But I couldn’t walk.  I couldn’t control my body beyond the “don’t faint” command.  You’d believe how traumatized I was if you saw me right now, sweating and breathing heavily as I write about it, in snake-less Lviv, more than twenty-two years later. 

It was a prairie snake, the only poisonous rattlesnake in South Dakota. I didn’t know that at the time, I thought all rattlesnakes were poisonous.  It may sound like I was just unlucky to get one of the poisonous ones but they are everywhere.  This wouldn’t be my last unpleasant encounter with one.  (In addition to the ones in my dreams, for the next three months). 

After an unknown amount of time, possibly several hours, neither the snake nor I moved.  She slithered in place, standing its ground.  I finally considered walking around her, but the area beyond was covered in rocks and dry grass.  Who knows how many snakes are in there!  I finally retreated along the path and waited in the house.  I was paranoid that there were snakes in every corner.  I thought that this one may get inside, after all, it was an old house with who knows how many cracks. 

Eventually the path was clear.  I was weak with fear, but not enough to completely forget about the six cents I owed.  I walked around the house slowly, carefully got back on my bike, and rode to the SuperDuper.  It had now been almost two hours since I was there, but the checkout lady was still in the same spot, still scanning groceries. 

I handed her the six cents.  She didn’t take them, just handed me my candy.  She said several sentences that I didn’t understand.  I think she explained that the person behind me in line covered it.  I must have had a very confused expression because she finally smiled and said, slowly “don’t worry about it.”

* This image and other experiences in South Dakota had a significant affect on me.  I have since learned about the extent of mistreatment of native people in North America, and how often it is minimized as something happened long ago and is no longer relevant.  It is very much still relevant.  

One of my favorite things is to learn.  This may sound highly evolved and proud of me, but I assure you that it is a curse. Most days my craving to understand is merely a stimulating distraction that keeps me from doing the things that I’m supposed to be doing. 

For example, earlier today I was writing about an experience I had while living in Rapid City.  When I wanted to make a comment about Native Americans/American Indians/First Nations People, I paused.  I didn’t know the appropriate phrase to refer to them.  I had always leaned toward Native Americans, but my father in law once told me that one of his workers who is an Indian said that he and his people prefer the word “Indian”. 

So at this moment, I paused my writing and searched the internet.  As I had suspected, there is no consensus and really, I should use the specific name of the nation (Navajo, Sioux, Chinook, Apache, etc.) if I know to which one the individuals belong.  In Canada the acceptable term is First Nations, unless you’re referring to Inuit and Metis people, who don’t fall under that category.  From there I was curious about the Inuit and Metis, and after learning who they are I went further down the rabbit hole reading about the Eskimo–Aleut languages, the Aleut language branch, why it is critically endangered, social political forces that have contributed to its decline and so on.  I had to pull myself away, take a walk around the apartment, and come back to writing. 

I noticed an interesting phenomenon when I first began teaching biology at Portland Community College – I really enjoyed reading the textbook.  The fact that I liked biology was not surprising, as it is the field I chose to focus on during higher education.  What was surprising was the fact that reading the textbooks was stressful, sometimes dreadful while I was in college.  There was so much information, so much pressure, so little time.  Yet now, I was full on enjoying it, even if I was in a time crunch to prepare a lecture or an assignment. 

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The major distinction was that I now knew close to 90 percent of the material I was reading about.  I had a strong grid of knowledge and information.  As I read, the new information mostly consisted of unknown to me examples, novel way to explain a concept, or interesting graphics. 

The sweet spot in learning is when it is not so easy that it is boring, but not so difficult that you feel overwhelmed.  With only 10 – 20% of new, or difficult to understand information, I can stay engaged indefinitely. 

I try to use this concept when I teach – gradually layering on new information, in a way that is engaging to the students who have chosen a class of appropriate difficulty. 

My problem is that learning is often an excuse for not actually doing anything.  Learning about how to write well is nice and can be useful.  However, I will never become a better writer if I’m not consistently writing.  Reading about how to learn a new language will not result in me learning the language.  It is consistent practice that results in acquiring a new skill or putting out a new, useful product.  A person who knows everything there is to know in the biology field is impressive but they are not very useful if they are not conducting new research, working on cures or environmental crisis solutions, writing a book, developing a curriculum, teaching, etc. 

Learning for learning’s sake is nice.  I enjoy it as much as I enjoy an entertaining book or a movie.  It’s fun.  It’s also selfish.  For the sake of an argument, I’ll say “so what if it’s selfish?  I’m allowed to do things for myself, aren’t I?  It’s not hurting anyone.”  However, in the last couple of years I realized that the problem for me is that without taking the time to practice a skill, focus on a certain topic, or develop an idea, I just feel useless. 

Thus this writing challenge. 

I have an unreasonable fear that my husband will not like me when I’m older.  There is no basis for this.  He has never mentioned a dislike for older people, he has never made comments about the appearance of mature women.  He has never made comments about my emerging wrinkles or parts of my body that have started to lose their original shape. 

On the other hand I am not completely crazy.  He has never been with an older woman, so there’s no way to know how he will feel about them.  He has never dated someone with deep wrinkles or a head full of grey hair.  What if he thinks it won’t matter, but it really will?

I used to think that my confidence came entirely from my inner qualities.  My appearance had nothing to do with it because I had a very average look.  I never put a lot of effort into it – makeup wasn’t my thing, I hated clothes shopping, manicures seemed like a waste of money, my hair would get frizzy within minutes of stepping outside anyway.  Since I didn’t try to get attention with outer beauty, it meant that I didn’t get attention for outer beauty. 

Something changed when I had my first child.  Parts of my body had become stretched According to reports, some younger guys aged 20 years may also experience ED due to order viagra overnight the high stress, anxiety, drinking or smoking. Some of the reasons that were detected are diabetes, stress, improper robertrobb.com tadalafil overnight delivery or insufficient supply of blood, high level of cholesterol and blood pressure. A tough fibrous, which is partially elastic outer casing, is known for surrounding this spongy material. cheap tadalafil tablets The next common thing you will hear people say is that they have a “slow metabolism”. generic levitra no prescription out and disproportional.  My face wasn’t letting go of that ninth-month-of pregnancy chubbiness.  Most disappointing of all, I got dark circled under my eyes that were far beyond my makeup skills.  That’s when I realized that while I was up on a high horse, thinking I was particularly evolved, I was just as shallow as the average shallow person.  I grieved.

Now, a decade later, I’ve gotten used to the changes that came with child bearing.  I have even accepted them.  I’m more realistic.  But as the wrinkles, increased facial hair and age spots slowly creep in, I notice little changes in how I am treated by strangers.  People, subconsciously (if I’m giving them the benefit of the doubt) whether they are young or old, male or female, value pretty, youthful women.  It is human nature. 

When I think of my doubts about my husband loving me as I age, I realize that it’s entirely my own worldview and insecurities that I’m projecting on him.  And honestly, being insecure and paranoid is more likely to turn him off then my graceful, natural aging. 

In a traditional, religious context, it is never okay to divorce.  A marriage is a covenant between man, woman, and God.  Under that contract, the union is for life, or for eternity.  Historically, this was reinforced by social circumstances where women didn’t have a practical way out even if they chose to ignore God’s wrath.  Leave the husband and go where?  Do what?  It was impossible.  If there were children involved then the situation was even more set in stone.  Leaving, regardless of the circumstances, may literally kill your children.  Women stayed even if they were beaten, abused, raped, or neglected.  Women stayed even if they knew that their husband was sleeping around, possibly infecting them with all kinds of venereal diseases.  Some women accepted it as the only way.  There was often no choice in who they married, so I suppose the expectations were low to begin with. 

Even recently, in the second half of the twentieth century, in a communist, godless (on paper) state where marriages were generally performed in a courthouse, divorce was rarely an option.  According to the Family Edict of 1944, the divorce had to be public, with announcements and explanations in court and in the newspaper.  Both parties had to pay a significant fine, and the final decision was left to the judge.  In practical terms, since property could not be purchased, it was difficult for a couple to physically separate from one another. 

Most of my married friends are now well into their second decade of marriage.  This year, in 2019, five couples that I consider to be close friends, or who have been close friends in the past, started the process of divorcing.  None of the divorces are due to infidelity or another sudden change.  Instead, like a tectonic shift, the divorce is just a dramatic, visible consequence of slow, deep motions that have been consistently under the surface. 

This has provided me with a lot of opportunities to think about marriage, life, and the purpose of relationships.  What is interesting to me is to consider these concepts outside of religion and requirements of a state. 

Marriage between consenting adults is a relationship between equals.  Two independent individuals, each with their numerous needs, flaws, and talents, decide that their life will be better if they join in a marriage.  Ideally, both people are individually happy, and do not seek for their spouse to fix anything in their life.  They join together in this partnership because they have common interests and common goals.  Often one of those goal’s is raising children in an enjoyable way, and providing them with a safe, stable home.  They also have common perspective on how a life ought to be lived.  They want to support each other while respective each other’s autonomy. 

This is the delicate balance – respecting each other as individuals who have needs and desires, while maintaining closeness.  I am not the boss of my husband’s time.  We divide household and family obligations, and we discuss how we want to spend our time together.  As the circumstances of our family life change, we renegotiate the division of labor.  We discuss our individual goals and how we can support each other in reaching them. 

I am also not in charge of who my husband spends his free time with, as long as it is within the bounds of our marriage agreement.  He is an independent human being.  There are heterosexual marriages with a wide range of agreements.  Is attending a co-ed book club ok?  Having one-on-one lunch with a friend of the opposite sex?  Physical intimacy?  It all depends on the agreement of each couple, in which each member had an equal say.  Ultimately, however, in my personal situation, I do hope that my husband chooses to spend time with me because I enjoy being with him.

What happens when the couple no longer enjoys spending time together?  Maybe their world-view has changed and they want to walk in different directions.  Maybe they simply don’t enjoy each other’s company and choose to spend their time elsewhere.  Maybe there’s abuse, manipulation, lying, constant arguing or cheating.  Maybe they’re great friends, but have no passion.

Last year, a friend of a friend who had been in an emotionally and physically abusive marriage for eighteen years decided to file for divorce.  He had attempted counseling and sought advice from his religious leaders.  They told him to endure until the end of his life because in the afterlife he will be rewarded with a perfect marriage and other prizes.  At 39, taking into account life expectancy, this advice was very difficult to implement.  A couple of years later, a different Then I come to know from my friend about viagra shop usa with discount to beat erectile dysfunction. At different levitra pharmacy purchase sales here times the individual may express these feelings by crying or chuckling for no obvious reasons. Side effect: Headache, flushing, stuffy/runny nose, or viagra sale dizzinessmay occur. In addition to this, it improves your sexual icks.org generic levitra pill health, read more of articles by the same author. religious leader in his community advised him to think of the wife as one of his children.  Maybe this child has a major handicap.  Surely he wouldn’t think of abandoning his handicapped child?!

Faith can be a powerful force.  Throughout history, faith has allowed people to tolerate injustices, endure difficulties, and even perform atrocities.  The bounds of that force are so diverse and individual, that there’s no room for a logical argument. 

What is more interesting to me is considering this question in light of logic, science, and human nature.  If marriage is a relationship between two individuals who have free will and entered this arrangement in order to support each other on life’s journey, to enhance each other’s lives, then they should be able to terminate this arrangement when they are no longer receiving the hoped-for benefits. 

No marriage will be perfect all the time.  There will surely be periods of discontent or boredom.  There will be periods of adjustment.  When both people want to work through those periods, and they move toward a common goal, then it is easy to expect better times, like a light at the end of the tunnel.  In cases where the goals are different, or one or both parties are not willing to make adjustments, then divorce seems like a reasonable option. 

As far as we know, we have only one life to live.  If there is an opportunity to live it authentically and happily, then why not seize that opportunity?  Why be married to someone who doesn’t want to be with you?  Why endure abuse if you don’t have to?  Why watch your kids grow up in and normalize an unhappy environment?

My original reaction to my friends’ divorces was a mixture of shock and sadness.  But after hours of pondering and discussing, I’ve come to realize that most of the sadness is due to my own selfishness.  I’m sad that we won’t be able to spend time as couples, I’m sad that I have to adjust to something new, I’m sad that I can’t say “the four of us have been friends for fifty years.”  I’m sad that my friends are going through a painful transition. 

Ultimately, I respect my friends.  I respect their goals, their assessment of their situation.  I respect their wishes.  I accept that they, just like me, are not perfect but are doing the absolute best that they can.   In that light, I give myself the permission to grieve the end of something, and accept the possibilities of years to come.  In that light, I am happy for my friends. 

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My worldview is shaped by the concept of entropy.  Over nine years, as I taught my college lectures on the laws of thermodynamics, I realized that my dad was right:  “it’s all about physics.”

The first law of thermodynamics states that the total energy of a closed system (ex: universe) is constant.  Energy cannot be created or destroyed, it can only change forms.  We have what we have.  It’s pretty straightforward.  The second law of thermodynamics is a little more complicated, but it’s also much more interesting.  The simplest way to state it is: entropy (disorder) is always increasing. 

Every action will proceed in the direction of more disorder, unless external energy is applied.  For example, if you put no effort in maintaining order in your home, it will become disorderly.  If you come home exhausted, you can unbutton your pants at night and let them fall to the ground, step out of the pant legs and get in bed.  This takes a lot less energy than bending down your body, picking up the pants, turning them the right side out, folding them, opening a drawer, putting your pants inside, and closing the drawer.  All those motions require energy – you muscle cells have to burn fuel to bend your arms, legs, and torso.  This can be applied to every action within your home.  In order to create or maintain order energy must be invested in some form. 

The greater the level of organization and complexity, the more energy is required.  A small hut with no modern conveniences requires a lot less energy to maintain than a large home with a security system, central vacuum, and running water.  It’s not just the energy required to heat the larger space, but the energy (including human energy) to make sure everything works just right.  Without maintenance there will be rusty pipes, leaky toilets, outdated software, dusty surfaces, broken windows, moldy showers, chipped paint, and on and on. If you stop all maintenance (all external energy investment) for a hundred years, then your home will be a pile of rubble.  A disorganized pile of rubble. 

The same is true for living organisms.  Living organisms are very highly organized, complex systems.  They require constant intake of energy in order to maintain organization and complexity.  Animals intake this For example- i always scare of you when you speak in this tone look at this now super generic cialis is far better than an ordinary tablet. They don’t have to walk to another pharmacy, since everything is at the tip of their fingers. achat viagra pfizer Bile acids generika levitra initiate the irritating bile ducts, sphincter of Oddi, duodenum and even stomach, esophagus and colon. Their sole goal http://appalachianmagazine.com/2018/02/02/wythe-county-launches-free-exercise-program/ order viagra professional is to decrease the concentration of blood sugar and hence dysfunction of pancreatic cells leads to High blood sugar levels. energy in the form of food, they eat.  What happens when they stop eating?  They start to deteriorate.  If no energy is taken in they will break down to the point of death.  And then, as energy cannot be taken in by a dead organism, it continues to break down into simpler, less organized pieces.  A process called decomposition.  Eventually, the body is broken down to very small molecules: water, carbon dioxide, and others.  From dust to dust. 

Simple, disorganized molecules and structures are much more stable than highly organized ones.  Without intentional energy applied, a pile of bricks will never become a tower, yet a tower is guaranteed to become a pile of bricks unless it is maintained. 

This energy you invest into something (your body, your home, your business, anything) must come from somewhere.  Yet extracting of energy causes increased disorder to that system from which you extract.  The process of burning coal or oil for fuel takes large, less stable molecules and breaks them into very small, highly stable ones.  These little molecules bounce all over – it’s disorder. 

No matter how you slice it, creating more complex bodies, structures, societies, technologies requires constant input of energy and thus will create disorder somewhere. 

In the last two hundred years, and especially since the beginning of the digital age, our lives and societies have become increasingly complicated.  A software malfunction in a bank in New York may affect a woman who’s trying to swipe her credit card at a shop in Thailand.  The manufacturing of a car depends on everything going smoothly in factories in several countries worldwide and on the political or economic stability of each border crossing that has to occur for various parts to make it to one facility.  When we purchase a shirt for cheap at old navy, we’re contributing to near-slave existence for a mother in Singapore.  We depend on our smartphones for directions, restaurant selection, bus schedule, and banking.  When something goes wrong, we feel uneasy and lost. 

The more complex a system, the less stable it is.  We are all connected and everything we do has an effect on millions of people.  Yet it’s all so tangled that we never quite know what the right thing to do is.  And there are 7.8 billion of us.  Each using a massive amount of energy just to maintain our lives’ complexity, hoping for happiness. Yet what we get is just more entropy.

Today is my birthday.  It seems that for most of the last decade my birthday has fallen on a particularly busy day.  Thursdays is the most full day of the week for us – kids have multiple activities at different times and places all afternoon.  Plus, yesterday I got asked to do an English-language Lviv tour while the kids are at school, which I couldn’t refuse.

At five pm, Mila and I walked hand in hand, weaving through the streams of people on a busy sidewalk (it was crazy crowded today because of a football match). I was wearing Mila’s cello in a case made from an old Philadelphia Eagles jacket, which made my back very hot.  We were rushing to a dance supply store, and in the moment I realized that I was not annoyed.  I was enjoying being in my body.  By this time in the week, and in the day, especially on a Thursday, I start losing patience with everyone and become generally annoyed, irritated, tired.  I want the day to be over.  But today, I was enjoying the crisp autumn air, Mila’s little hand in mine, the lively streets, and the walking process. 

Somewhere deep, I had this conviction that I did not have to do anything today.  It’s my birthday, so I could have, at least theoretically, justified staying in bed and reading a This efficient medication is available in different dosages and recommended as per the tolerability of a person. buy levitra Side effectsWhen using sildenafil there are prescribed dosages prescription de viagra that should be done by following a regular regime. In fact many of us carry around pain medication with us where ever we go just on the off chance that you have heart issues or experiences any straight from the source cheap cialis for sale of the accompanying genuine symptoms amid sex, stop and look for prompt restorative consideration: Severe wooziness Fainting Chest torment Putting away place: Keep out of the span of living. The drug has been on the market for more than five years, is now known as an effective remedy and rescue. order cheap levitra book or napping.  It’s this one day of the year that I could have guiltlessly asked Zach to come home early from work and deal with the kid transfers and errands.  I could have said no to the tour too.  I could have because it was my birthday. 

Having it truly be a choice is what made it more enjoyable.  Having kids, signing them up for activities is very much a choice.  And I do enjoy it.  But today it all seemed exaggerated. 

The more intentional my life is, the more enjoyable it is.  I am lucky and privileged to have so many choices.    

When I was a kid, in Ukraine, my life involved a lot of walking, as it does now.  Walking is one of my favorite things about life.  The path often intersected my hometown’s central square, where a big Ukrainian catholic church stood. I often asked my mom if we could please stop in there for a few minutes.  Most of the time, no matter how stressed out she was or how late we were running, she’d let me. 

I liked the darkness, the quiet, the echoing of my footsteps, the flickering of candles, the overpowering wall murals.  I liked the ritual of walking in, crossing myself, kissing the pierced feet in the picture of Christ by the entrance, folding my arms on my chest, moving to the center of the empty church, and saying a prayer with a bowed head.  I usually recited the Lord’s Prayer.  I liked that prayer and have known it by heart since before I can remember.  Then I’d stand there in silence for a couple of minutes and walk out the same way I came.  The ritual was comforting.  But I was also a people-pleaser, I liked being liked.  And, to me, God was a lot like a person.  He liked it when I did things he asked and these were the actions that pleased him. 

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Religion was like nitrogen in the air.  It was overwhelming and everpresent, but not always noticeable.  Everything had christian undertones, but they were more cultural than religious – don’t shop or work on Sunday, don’t use vulgar language, cross yourself when you pass a church (thrice), give your bus seat up to an elderly person, don’t sing, dance, or eat meat during lent.  These conventions were on the same level of as “don’t shake hands over a doorstep, spit three times to prevent a bad thing from happening, don’t whistle in the house, knock on wood, fear the crosswind, wear a red thread on your wrist to ward off the evil eye (wearing your underwear inside-out also works), and smoke the devil out of the house each Christmas eve.  This latter list was leftover from my ancestor’s pagan religion in which nobody believed anymore, supposedly, but followed anyway.  Teachers, coaches, people on the street, shop ladies in the store, market sellers, all spoke and acted as if this combination of cultural norms is the one and only way.  The phrase “fear God!” was used in a the sense “be reasonable!”

Yet bible reading, church going, commandment keeping, and praying was kind of secondary.  We’d attend church once in a while, certainly on Palm Sunday and Easter.  The basic idea of christian “love towards all” was important, but only so long as it didn’t interfere with the first two tiers.  If you fit into and follow the cultural norms, then you are lovable. 

I was often frustrated with the selective religiosity of the people around me.  If we are supposed to listen to the priest and he says to come to church each Sunday and to pray each day, then why aren’t we doing that?  If the bible story teaches to be kind to those different from us, why are people saying nasty things about the gypsy on the street?  If the story of Adam and Eve teaches us to…. wait, what is that story teaching us? Wasn’t Jesus mad about people selling stuff near the temple, why is our town ok with that? What does “do not take the Lord’s name in vain” mean if “oh god” is such a prevalent part of everyone’s language? 

To get the maximum love from God, I decided that I was going to do things as fully as I could.  I’ll go to church, I’ll be nice to people, I will pray every night, and I will definitely stop using “oh god”.  There was a period of time when I walked to church on my own, to the 7am service, which I found particularly holy due to the smaller crowd and the lack of young children.  I was probably ten years old and felt pretty hard core.  I tried to push back all judgement of “I’m doing this better than you”, because, well, it wasn’t allowed.  At the same time I couldn’t logically make sense of the discrepancy “aren’t we constantly told that we need to be doing all these things? Why am I the only one who’s doing it?”

The fervent churchgoing at 7am didn’t last very long.  I may have gone only twice.  Other than being good for God, I wasn’t really getting much out of it, and overtime, my fervency wavered (God knew when he made me that I was not a morning person), but I said my prayers, and continued to stop by the church as I walked by with a deeper intention.